


Ichor and Fire

by romansilver



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, My First Work, Wow, akataka - Freeform, i have no words, im not even proud of this, pretty much word vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:57:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4670957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romansilver/pseuds/romansilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shanks and Mihawk take a walk down memory lane</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ichor and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work I have no idea what I'm doing

Shanks had always loved Mihawk’s eyes. They were as sharp as the black sword strapped to the man’s back, glancing at everything, taking everything in with such precision and accuracy it made the pirate wonder if he could see the breezes as they blew by and brushed his face. He always thought that would be a handy skill, being able to determine the fierce winds of the Grand Line. Maybe then he would be able to navigate the sea.  
He loved the color most of all, the shade of ichor in the man’s eyes. They shown in the sun sometimes, like liquid gold around a stone of black jet. Shanks had seen a ring like that, and was tempted to buy it for the swordsman, so that he could give it to him and say it was so “he could always keep an eye on himself.” But he turned away, they were (former) rivals, nothing more, at least in Mihawk’s eyes, and such gifts might alienate the stoic man even more.  
Shanks turned his mind to the first time he had seen Mihawk, the day of Gol D. Roger’s execution. He was young, a child, even younger than Luffy was now, and he stood and watched as his captain heralded a new age. He remembered his vow then, and a smiled creased his suntanned face. Shanks had promised to himself then, that he would pick up where Roger had left off, lead the world and shape it while new people took to the sea. He would take the world up in his hands and become a figure to write about in the history books.   
Drunk on determination and resolve, he pushed his way through the busy square, every step filled with goals he knew he had to accomplish. People made way for him, perhaps sensing the strength that emanated from his very being. He gazed left and right, seeing faces but not really noting them, the features of the crowd blurring together until they made a monster that Shanks had to defeat.   
It was then his eyes met golden ones, filled with as much strength as his own, and Shanks stopped for a second, struck by the oddest feeling, like this very moment would be important but he had no idea why. Then the man, and it was a man, turned away and left, leaving Shanks rooted to the spot, torn between running after the man and forgetting everything about him. At last, he spun on his heel and left, making his way towards the sea.  
He wasn’t haunted by golden eyes, as all the songs say. He would think of them briefly, getting that same odd feeling that overtook him as the first time he saw them, then stubbornly push it out of his mind, focusing instead on his goal, on bringing together a crew who could conquer the world, but, more importantly, could keep him grounded. It wasn’t until years later that he would see those golden eyes again, on the face of the world’s greatest swordsman.  
Shanks laughed then, back on his ship, and Benn looked at him in concern, frowning at his captain’s sudden amusement. Reaching for the mug near his seat, he raised his glass to Benn, declaring a toast. “To the crew, the world, and our memories!” he cheered heartily. “Let’s get SMASHED!” The crew cheered with him, and left their duties on the ship to throw an impromptu party on the deck. Shanks knew there was plenty of other memories to recount, his and Hawk Eyes’ first fight, that one time (any the only time) Mihawk got drunk and bought three cows “so that his poor orphan children could have milk to drink and a family to love”, and the realization that the golden man had slashed his heart to bits and made his home there, but Shanks had enough memories for today. 

———————

Dracule Mihawk had always loved Shanks’ hair. It was everything Mihawk was not, fiery and bright and so present one couldn’t help but notice the man it belonged to. It suited him perfectly, he thought, and he wondered if Shanks’ mother and father had realized who their son would become. He thought about Shanks often, more often than was strictly necessary in their current relationship, but Mihawk had long learned not to blame himself for the inescapable presence the man had.  
Mihawk thought about Shanks’ family a lot, though he didn’t like to. As much as he hated to admit it to even himself, he wanted to know about them, discover if they were still alive and if they were, what they thought about who their son had become. He had the suspicion that they were, not, in fact, alive, and that filled him with unexplainable grief, as if he had lost a family, despite him never knowing these people, knowing nothing about them. It made Mihawk feel weak, lost in his emotions and he pushed them down, pushing any thought of Shanks out of his head until he thought of his status, his sword, Straw Hat and Roronoa, anything but the memories of red hair and wild eyes.  
They were rivals once, and that’s all they ever would be. Mihawk had made that crystal clear, had spelled it out in front of Shanks until he gave himself a headache, and yet, the red-haired man wouldn’t listen, would invite him to drink and party with him as if he was a long-lost friend and not a man he had fought so many times, who was a rival to him. Mihawk refused, he always did, but too often he found himself dragged back into the intoxicating presence of Shanks, as potent as the sake he would down in the company of the Red Hair Pirates.  
And when Shanks had come to him from East Blue, missing his sword arm and filled with tales of young boys and Sea Kings and mountain bandits, Mihawk had turned away, refusing to look Shanks in the eye. He said it was because Shanks was a cripple now, impaired for the rest of his life, and that was true, he did not want to fight with a man who had lost everything. But deep down, he was filled with that same grief he feels when he thinks of Shanks’ family, and he couldn’t stand thinking that his sympathy was directed to a man he so adamantly considered a rival.   
This was not the end for them. Shanks had a funny way of finding Mihawk when he wanted him least and needed him most, and it was during these “chance” encounters that he finally came to terms with grief and the emotions he had pinned down for so long.   
Dracule Mihawk was not a stupid man, he knew he had fallen for a man he could never have.


End file.
